


Once Upon a Time Lord

by Bow_Ties



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Fairy Tales, Fluff, Romance, Smut, Whittaker!Master - Freeform, but Thasmin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:28:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23413078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bow_Ties/pseuds/Bow_Ties
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a young woman called Yasmin, who met a beautiful, mysterious stranger with a blue box...A collection of Thasmin Fairy Tales
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 82
Kudos: 87





	1. Cinderyaz

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello!
> 
> I am so excited to get started with this project. The plan is for this to become a collection of classic fairy tales, starring our two favourite women, Thirteen and Yaz. We start our journey with my personal favourite fairy tale - Cinderella - but I've got a bunch of other fairy tales planned as well :)
> 
> This first one is based on a mix of the German Brothers Grimm version and the French version by Perrault, with a little bit of Disney sprinkled on top for good measure.
> 
> I had an absolute blast writing this, and I hope you'll enjoy it as well!
> 
> Many thanks to @TheRainbowFox for beta-ing, listening to me scream about fairy tales, and for coming up with the idea to make this a whole collection instead of just a stand-alone one-shot!
> 
> Now, without further ado, let's go :)

Once upon a time, there was a young woman named Yasmin, who had learned that kindness mattered above all else. She had grown up in a house filled with laughter and joy, and although her father often had to leave for his travels, the girl had never been in want of love nor affection. She had spent her childhood summers running through the fields, making up stories in her head as she had passed endless hours playing pretend, and her winter nights curled up in front of a fire, listening to her mother reading to her.

But when her mother had fallen incurably ill just as Yasmin had turned thirteen years old, a dark shadow had fallen over the entire household, and soon, Yasmin and her father had been left behind on their own. And although Yasmin and her father loved each other dearly, the laughter never quite returned to their home after. They buried her mother in the fields, under a hazelnut bush, and it was to become Yasmin’s favorite spot over the years, the place where she went to seek solace in her darkest hours.

As the years passed, Yasmin and her father made do just the two of them. The summers came and went, and their pain grew slowly duller, joy and laughter carefully finding its way back into their home and hearts.

One day, as Yasmin neared her nineteenth birthday, her father sat her down in his study.

“My dearest Yaz”, he spoke, calling her by her childhood name. “Your mother has been gone from us for six years now, and I wish to marry again. I have found a woman, and she shall come live with us. She has two sons but a year younger than you, and I am sure you shall become great friends.”

Although Yasmin felt nervous at the prospect of henceforth sharing her life with a new family, she was also excited to meet these people, especially the woman who had stolen her father’s heart. She must be wonderful, Yasmin thought to herself as she went to bed that night, and she dreamed of nights spent talking together over cups of tea with her new brothers. She had always wished to have siblings, and she thought she ought to feel grateful that life was offering them to her now.

The day the carriage was to arrive, Yasmin had gotten up early, put on her best dress, and gone downstairs to await her new family’s arrival. Her heart beat fast into her chest as she heard the horses coming up the drive towards their house, and she hastened herself to greet her stepmother and stepbrothers outside.

The woman stepping out of the carriage was of beauty seldom seen. Her brown locks were pinned up in an elaborate hairdo, and her dress was of the most stunning purple, her sweeping skirt adorned with a large bow at the back. Her delicate hand was curled around an umbrella, tapping the floor under her feet as she descended from the carriage, helped by the driver. Most stunning, however, was the woman’s face: her skin so pale that it seemed almost translucent, eyes so dark they felt almost black, and thin lips that curled into a small smile.

“You must be Yasmin”, she spoke, and her voice caused a shiver to run down Yasmin’s spine.

Swallowing down her fears, for she knew they were unnecessary, Yasmin curtsied briefly in front of the woman. “I am”, she replied.

Lifting her eyes once more, she looked past her new stepmother, curious to see her brothers. 

The two young men were handsome as their mother was beautiful, yet Yasmin’s smile faltered as their cold eyes pierced her, looking her over as if she were merely a nuisance to them.

Surely they are just tired from their long journey, Yasmin told herself. Her mother had taught her never to judge a person too quickly, and she reminded herself of this as one of the brothers pushed past her to get through the door first, knocking his shoulder into hers in the process.

The next weeks passed, while everyone in the house tried to accustom themselves to their new life. Yasmin noticed that her father looked happy in the presence of her stepmother, and so she kept her quiet as her stepbrothers teased and taunted her, pulling at her dress whenever she passed them alone in the hallways.

One day over dinner, her father announced that he was to leave for business once again the following morning. Yasmin felt a quiet dread at the thought of being left behind without him, though an encouraging smile from her stepmother lifted her spirits once again.

Yet after her father had left, her stepmother seemed to become an entirely different person.

“Make sure this gets clean”, her stepmother said coldly as she dropped a bag of dirty clothes in front of Yasmin. “And bring me some tea.”

And so Yasmin’s life changed. Day in, day out, she washed, cooked, swept, and served. Her brothers’ taunting turned increasingly unbearable, and she eagerly awaited the return of her father. Surely, if she were to tell him what had happened in his absence, he would chase the woman and her sons away, and they would live happily just the two of them once again.

Yet Yasmin’s father was never to return. 

The messenger reached them after three days, and Yasmin felt like her sorrow was to drown her, for now she was left all alone in this world.

Freed from the fear of a returning angry father, her stepmother and brothers knew no more restraint in their treatment of Yasmin. She tried to remember her mother’s words, teaching her to be kind above all else, yet every day it became harder to live by them.

One day, a royal messenger arrived at their house, holding a decree from the palace.

“It is to be known”, he spoke in a solemn voice, “that the King has invited all the children of his kingdom that are of marrying age to come to his palace for a ball to be held in honour of the Princess, a week from today. The ball shall last three whole nights, and at this occasion, the Princess shall choose a spouse to take their place at her side the day she is to ascend to the throne.”

As soon as the messenger had left, the house was filled with excited chatter.

“The Princess!” one of the brothers spoke. “You wait and see mother, for in a week, I shall be your future king.”

“No mother”, her other brother exclaimed. “ _ I  _ shall be your future king!”

Their mother cooed her praises to both of her sons, yet Yasmin wasn’t paying them any attention. A ball! She thought. A chance to leave the house and be among other people once again. And so she spent the following nights dreaming of music and dance, and suddenly her chores felt that much easier to finish every day.

The day of the ball, a great bustle filled the house, and Yasmin had trouble keeping up with her stepbrothers’ ever changing demands. They tried on garment after garment, each more garish looking than the previous, and demanded their hair be washed and styled according to the latest fashions from the city.

When finally they were dressed, Yasmin rushed into the attic, where she had slept ever since her father had passed, and took a simple, yet elegant blue dress out of a chest at the back of the room. It had been her mother’s favorite, and Yasmin had kept it over the years, sometimes opening the chest to catch a breath of her mother’s perfume which still clung to the garment after all this time. Careful not to rip the delicate cloth, she dressed herself, finally daring to take a look at herself in a greasy mirror standing in the corner.

I look just like my mother did, she thought, and fought to keep the tears at bay.

As she heard the carriage arrive in front of the house, she walked down the steps from the attic in her dress, waiting for her stepmother and brothers in the hallway. But as her stepmother walked around the corner, her face contorted in anger, and Yasmin felt her blood grow cold.

“What is this?” her stepmother asked, and Yasmin’s gaze sunk to the floor.

“I wish”, she spoke quietly, then lifted her head with newfound determination as she braved her stepmother’s piercing glare. “I wish to go to the ball.”

Her stepmother did nothing but laugh in response, laugh as she threw her head back, and soon she was joined by her two sons.

“You?” one of them wheezed. “At the ball?”

“A laughing stock!” the other added.

“Besides”, her stepmother spoke as she had finally stopped cackling. “You don’t even have a dress to wear!”

And before Yasmin could open her mouth to protest, her stepmother had reached out, grabbing a handful of her dress in her hand. With a tug, she ripped the garment in half as a cry escaped Yasmin’s throat. Her mother’s dress hung on her in ruins as she tried to cover herself in front of her brothers, who strutted past her with condescending grins on their faces.

As soon as the carriage had left the drive, Yasmin threw on her old, stained working dress, and ran out of the house into the fields, until she reached her mother’s grave.

Crying, she fell down on her knees in front of it, and so she sat under the hazelnut bush, desperately wishing for her mother to hold her and tell her that she was loved.

When Yasmin felt like she had no more tears to shed, she lifted her head to look at her mother’s grave, and on top of it, she found the most wondrous thing: a dress, having appeared seemingly out of nowhere. It was blue, just like her mother’s had been, yet was adorned with the most wonderful work of lace around the shoulders. Yasmin looked left and right, yet no soul was to be found. And so she lifted the dress off the ground, and decided that she would go to the ball after all.

The palace was close enough for Yasmin to walk, and her mother’s shoes, which she had taken out of the chest along with her dress, were comfortable enough for it as well.

As she approached the palace, she looked up at it in wonder. She walked the stairs feeling a little out of place, with all those important people of rank and riches surrounding her. Yet they all seemed to greet her with the utmost respect, making way for her wherever she went, as if she were no less than a princess herself.

When she walked into the room, her eyes immediately fell on her stepmother, and her heart stopped as the woman looked her straight in the eye. But then, curiously, she merely nodded, smiling politely as she turned away once again.

The dress! Yasmin thought. It must hold a spell that conceals my identity for them.

She must have been right, for as her brothers turned towards her but a moment later, they barely acknowledged her presence as their gaze passed over her.    
  
Yasmin spent the first half of her evening filled with pure wonder. Delicious foods were served on silver platters, seasoned with spices from far away lands, and beverages that tasted of sweet fruits Yasmin could not name. She was content watching the other people dance as she listened to the music from the small orchestra at the end of the room.

Then however, something - or rather, someone - caught Yasmin’s eye.

She was, without question, the most beautiful - yet somehow also the most handsome - woman that Yasmin had ever laid eyes upon. Her blonde hair fell in soft waves to her chin, and she was dressed, most unusually, in a pair of brown trousers, a white shirt with puffy sleeves and a dark blue vest. An ornate golden chain, no doubt belonging to an equally exquisite fobwatch, went from the woman’s vest pocket to one of its buttons. Her laughter was ringing through the room, and it felt so infectious that Yasmin started to smile without even noticing it at first. Then, the woman turned her head, and her eyes looked straight into Yasmin’s.

Yasmin remembered faintly that she was supposed to breathe, yet found herself unable to. The woman’s gaze was so kind and warm that it made Yasmin want to run towards her, even though she did not know her at all. When the blonde started walking towards Yasmin instead, she could hear her pulse thrumming in her ears.

“Good evening”, the woman spoke, and her voice sounded like velvet. With a short bow, she held out a hand towards Yasmin, that wonderful smile still dancing across her lips. “Would my lady like to dance?”

Yasmin let out a long breath, and nodded as she tentatively took the offered hand. It felt soft and warm around her own.

They found their way to the middle of the dance floor then, and soon enough, the other guests were making space for them as they whirled around, the mysterious woman holding Yasmin’s hand tight in her own, the other one gently placed on her lower back.

All Yasmin could hear was the music flowing through the air around them, and all she could see was the woman’s eyes, green and golden and warm and bright, as her gaze never faltered.

They danced for what felt like hours, song after song enveloping them as the blonde expertly led Yasmin over the dance floor. She had never felt like this, Yasmin realised. And she was about to open her mouth to finally ask the woman for her name, when suddenly the room around them fell deadly silent.

With the strike of midnight, a knock, distant yet loud, rang through the halls. Once, twice, thrice, then finally a fourth time.

The room around her came back into focus as the blonde let go off her back, yet still holding on to Yasmin’s hand. The other guests were looking at each other in confusion, some even in worry.

Again, the knock came four times, but this time, something else happened as well.

A voice, dark and distorted, making the hair on the back of Yasmin’s neck stand up, rang through the hall from seemingly nowhere at all.

“Doctor”, the voice called, and then again, more threateningly: “Doctor!”

Panic rose around Yasmin as some guests started rushing towards each other, questions being shouted at each other as the ominous knocks sounded once more, four times, and then the voice let out a long, agonizing cry.

Chaos erupted as multiple guests started to rush to the doors and, overcome with fear, Yasmin let go of the blonde’s hand, running towards the back of the room where she could see a small door, no doubt leading to the servants’ quarters and, from there, to an exit. 

“Wait!” the woman called after her, yet Yasmin was too scared to stop.

“Wait!” it rang out again from behind her. “I don’t even know your name!”

Stopping ever so briefly as she reached the door, Yasmin turned around, and her chest was bathed in warmth as she looked into the woman’s eyes once more. After a moment’s thought, she made a decision.

“I’m Yaz”, she said, and with that, she disappeared through the door.

That night, Yasmin lay awake, and despite the scary end to her evening, she could think of nothing else but the mysterious woman, the kind smile adorning her lips, and the warm feeling of her hand against Yasmin’s back.

As she woke the next morning with the sunlight falling in through her small attic window, Yasmin quickly jumped to her feet, and threw her old working dress on before she ran downstairs to hear news from yesterday’s ball from her stepmother and brothers. She wished desperately to know if everyone had been alright.

“A silly trick, no doubt, simply to cause an uproar”, she heard her stepmother say just as Yasmin came down the stairs into the hallway. “The King will have their heads.”

Walking into the sitting room, Yasmin allowed herself to timidly ask for news of last night’s ball. “What uproar?” she asked, making sure to sound as innocent and unknowing as she could muster.

Her stepmother lifted an eyebrow, nodding towards the teapot standing in the corner without a word. Yasmin busied herself with it, preparing the leaves and putting water on the stove.

“There were some strange going-ons at the ball last night, not that it is any of your business”, her stepmother finally spoke. “Someone making an awful lot of noise, calling out and screaming for a Doctor! Of course, when the guards went to look, there was nobody at the gate. They are investigating it as we speak, doubling down the patrols for tonight’s ball.”

“The ball is still happening?” Yasmin asked, a bit too quickly she realised as soon as her stepmother regarded her with a lifted eyebrow, impatiently waving her teacup at Yasmin.

“Yes of course it is, you silly child”, the stepmother sighed. “The King isn’t going to let the Princess’s ball be stopped by some tricksters.”

Taking a deep breath, Yasmin gathered all her courage, and turned towards her stepmother.

“Then I would like to attend tonight”, she spoke, trying to keep her voice as firm as possible.

Behind Yasmin, her brothers erupted into laughter. Yet Yasmin’s gaze remained firmly set on her stepmother, and she was determined not to falter.

“Alright”, her stepmother finally said, a saccharine smile painted on her lips. Yasmin almost couldn’t believe her own ears, and her heart started to flutter in her chest.

Yet her stepmother was far too cruel for such a kind gesture, and soon Yasmin’s dreams were to be crushed once more as her stepmother led her into the kitchen, gesturing towards a large chest next to the oven.

“These”, she spoke, “are this year’s lentils. You will divide them into good ones and bad ones, into these two bowls. Once you have finished the task, you shall be allowed to accompany us to the ball.”

Yasmin was devastated. How was she to finish this insurmountable task, in no less than a day? As soon as her stepmother left, she fell to her knees in front of the chest. Yet Yasmin was determined not to cry. She thought of the wonderful woman, how she had bowed in front of her and so elegantly asked her to dance. Of all the women in that room, she had chosen to dance the night away with Yasmin. 

And so she went to work, picking lentil after lentil out of the chest, letting them fall one by one into the bowls, left and right. For hours, Yasmin knelt and sorted, the ash from the bottom of the oven getting sucked into the thick material of her working dress. And while she sorted away, Yasmin kept dreaming of the woman, and what she would say once she saw her again.

When darkness fell over the house and Yasmin heard the carriage drive up to their door once more, the last lentils fell into the bowls, and she quickly jumped up. She could not believe that she had indeed managed to finish her task, and her heart skipped with joy in her chest.

Running towards the door, she caught up with her stepmother, who was throwing an elaborate coat over her shoulders.

“Madam”, she said, for her stepmother had warned her never to address her in a familiar way. “I finished the task and would like to accompany you to the ball.”

“Looking like this?” one of her brothers piped up. “Mother, we would be taken for fools! Bringing our maid, covered in ash and dirt.”

And so, once more, Yasmin was told to stay home, and once more, in her hurt and despair, she ran out to the fields, weeping in front of her mother’s grave. If only the woman were with her! If only she could hold Yasmin once more, like she used to so many years ago.

When Yasmin could cry no more, she opened her eyes, and just like the night before, a dress lay on her mother’s grave. This time, however, it was shimmering, seemingly woven out of pure silver. It felt soft in Yasmin’s hands, surely the most expensive cloth she had ever touched.

She put it on with the utmost care, and the dress fell around her form like a tailor had made it just for her. One shoulder was covered, while the other remained bare, and the dress fell in silky waves to her ankles. This time, shoes had appeared next to the dress as well, and Yasmin gasped as she realised that they were made to look as if they had been crafted out of some form of crystal. Carefully, she slipped them over her feet, and found them so much more comfortable than she had thought them to be.

Once again, Yasmin found herself walking up to the palace. She did not miss the extra guards stationed all around it, however, and for a moment, she found herself scared of being asked to leave. What if somebody realised she was indeed not meant to be here? But then she remembered the royal messenger’s words.  _ All _ children of the kingdom had been asked to attend, and so she had every right to be here as well.

This time, Yasmin did not waste her time pondering the wonderful foods and drinks that were being passed around, ignoring them in favor of walking along the side of the dancefloor, her eyes roaming over the crowd, desperate to find one particular face among them.

“Yaz.”

The familiar voice made Yasmin spin around on her heels, and she smiled broadly as she came face to face with the blonde, remembering her manners just in time for a brief curtsy. The other woman replied with a bow, and before she could say anything, Yasmin decided that tonight, she was to be brave.

“May I ask for a dance”, she spoke, her heart beating fast into her chest.

The blonde’s eyes widened in surprise, and then a broad smile broke out over her features as she reached out her hand towards Yasmin. “My lady may ask for whatever she pleases.”

Yasmin felt her cheeks burn as she let the woman lead her onto the dance floor. Tonight, like the evening before, the blonde was in trousers, however this time, her dark blue vest was adorned with silver swirls, and she wore an elegant frock coat over it. The familiar golden of a fobwatch chain was shimmering from the bottom of her vest.

As soon as the blonde started moving them across the dance floor, Yasmin once more forgot the entire world around her. Tonight, she dared to pull closer to the woman, leaving their faces mere inches apart from each other, their gazes never faltering as they looked each other in the eyes for the entire time they danced. 

And how they danced! Sweet, slow melodies to which they swayed almost in place, changing in the bat of an eye to fast rhythms and dizzying turns. Yasmin felt herself laugh, and soon enough, the woman holding her joined in in the laughter. Yasmin knew then that if anyone told her that she was to spend the rest of her life dancing with this woman, she would accept her fate with happiness in her heart.

But then a horrible cry rang through the halls as the clock struck midnight, and a moment later, the familiar four knocks followed, sounding at the same time from nowhere and everywhere around them.

They stopped their dance, and Yasmin almost gasped in surprise as the other woman slung a protective arm around her.

“Is it the same as last night?” Yasmin whispered. “Just tricksters?”

“Doctor”, a voice rang out through all the palace halls. “Doctor!”

“My lady, we need to get you to safety”, the blonde suddenly spoke, turning around to move Yasmin towards the servants’ door she had escaped from last night.

“But people said it is nothing”, Yasmin spoke, because even though she was scared, she knew in her heart that she did not want to part from the other woman.

“I have a bad feeling”, the blonde said. “You should go, be safe. Just in case. I cannot bear the thought of -”

The woman interrupted herself, reaching out towards the door and pulling it open. As Yasmin took a step towards it, she turned around, yet Yasmin reached out, grabbing a hold of her arm.

“Wait”, she spoke. “I don’t even know your name.”

Turning her head back towards her, the woman smiled. 

“My name is Luce, my lady.”

And with that, she disappeared into the crowd, and Yasmin hurried out into the night.

The next morning, Yasmin’s stepmother announced once again that the final night of the ball was still to go ahead as planned, and for a final time, Yasmin asked for her stepmother’s permission to attend.

“Here”, the woman said, a false smile plastered on her face as she gestured towards a chest in front of the fireplace. “They have brought our year’s supply of peas this morning. Divide them up into the bowls, the good ones separate from the bad, and if you are finished by nightfall, you shall be allowed to come with us.”

And so Yasmin sat in front of the fireplace, spending hour upon hour dividing up the peas into good and bad, while the soot from the fireplace began to cover her arms and face. As the final peas fell into their pot, the carriage arrived in front of their door, and her stepmother and brothers were getting ready to leave just as Yasmin ran out towards them in the courtyard.

“Madam”, she called out. “Madam I have finished my work and would like to come with you.”

At that, one of her brother’s broke out into laughter. “Surely we cannot take her, mother”, he spoke. “Look at her, covered in soot. It would be a disgrace and an offense to the King!”

So they left her behind, and for the third night in a row, Yasmin sought refuge at her mother’s grave.

“Mother”, she cried as she covered her face with her dirty hands. “Oh how I wish you were here.”

But as she lifted her hands away from her face, they were suddenly no longer covered in dirt, and in front of her, on her mother’s grave, lay a dress even more magnificent than the ones she had been gifted the nights before.

It was shining like gold, with delicate threads of dark blue pulled through it, and the sweeping skirt had a beautiful train. She put it on, and her shoulders were left bare but for a small bit of see-through cloth falling off each of them. This time, the shoes looked like they had been fashioned out of pure gold, and Yasmin worried about their weight, yet found them light as feathers on her feet.

Tonight, the guards stood firm in front of the palace doors, yet as Yasmin approached them, they each bowed in turn, letting her pass the still waiting crowds of guests.

Another wonder of the dress? she thought. Was its magic that powerful?

This time, she did not have to search for the blonde woman, as Luce approached her as soon as she walked into the dance hall. She had forgone her coat today, and wore the same shirt from the first ball it seemed, her vest, still blue, adorned with golden swirls this time.

“Yaz”, she smiled as she bowed at her, and Yasmin returned a curtsy.

“Would my lady want to take a walk?”

She offered her arm to Yasmin, who wove her own through it, feeling almost dizzy at how close the gesture suddenly made them.

Luce led them out onto the balcony, and once again, the palace guards let them pass with a bow, closing the balcony doors behind them. They were all alone out there, overlooking the palace gardens underneath them.

“It’s beautiful”, Yasmin gasped, letting her eyes roam over ornate hedges and fountains, all illuminated by what seemed like hundreds of torches lit all over the gardens.

“It is”, Luce agreed. “I like coming out here to think, when the bustle inside gets too much. A bit of fresh air makes everything better.”

Yasmin laughed. “I am the same. Whenever I feel sad or lonely, I go into the fields to breathe in the air and feel the sun on my skin, and it consoles me.”

She looked over at the blonde, and found the woman with a deep frown on her face. Yasmin’s heart skipped a beat for fear of having done something to upset the other woman, and she rushed to apologise to her.

“Whatever for?” Luce asked.

“For saying the wrong things.”

But the blonde shook her head. “You did not. I was merely upset at the thought that somebody could cause you sadness and loneliness.”

At the words, Yasmin felt her cheeks glow, and she was sure that she must have been blushing deeply. Then, ever so gently, the woman took her hand, and Yasmin’s breath caught in her throat. She was sure that she had never felt for any other person the way she felt about Luce. Yet she had only known her so briefly, how was it possible? Something pulled her towards the blonde, and she neither had the power to deny it, nor the will to do so.

They turned to look out over the garden once more, their fingers now intertwined, and after a moment of silence, Luce spoke again. “Sometimes, I dream of the stars”, she said, almost in a whisper. “I dream that I have travelled among them.”

She paused, obviously embarrassed by her sudden admission. Yasmin, however, found her more and more endearing.

“My lady must think me very silly”, Luce finally said, but Yasmin shook her head.

“I do not”, she replied. “I think you are sweet and kind, and my mother, a very long time ago, taught me that those are the traits to be valued above anything else.”

“Kindness, huh”, Luce spoke. “Your mother is a wise woman.”

“Was”, Yasmin corrected her, not without sadness in her voice.

“I am sorry”, Luce said, squeezing her hand. “You must miss her very much.”

“I do”, Yasmin agreed. “But I carry her with me, wherever I go.”

Luce smiled, turning towards Yasmin, who realised how close they were standing to each other. She glanced towards the balcony doors, worried that somebody might come out through them.

When she looked back at Luce, the blonde had a curious look in her eyes.

“My lady”, she mumbled, and Yasmin could feel the woman’s breath on her lips. “My lady”, she spoke again, almost inaudible. “I think I would like to kiss you.”

Yasmin’s heart was beating so loud and fast, she was sure the other woman must be able to hear it. The thought of Luce’s lips on her own made her head swim, and as the woman slowly lifted a hand to place it on Yasmin’s cheek, she felt herself nod.

Carefully, the blonde placed a hand on Yasmin’s back, just as she had done while dancing, and pulled her close.

Yet just as their lips were about to touch, the door to the balcony was opened.

“Your Highness”, a guard spoke, and Yasmin and Luce jumped apart. “It is time to announce your decision.”

“Thank you”, Luce replied.

Blinking sheepishly, Yasmin looked back and forth between the guard, who was once again closing the door behind him as he left, and Luce, who stood frozen in place.

“Luce”, Yasmin breathed. “ _ Princess Lucette. _ ”

Hastily, Yasmin fell into a deep curtsy, her head bowed. “Your Highness”, she sputtered. “Forgive me, I had no idea.”

“Please”, Luce said, taking a step towards her. “Please don’t. You are the first person here who has treated me like a normal human being.”

Surprised, Yasmin looked up to find Luce standing in front of her, pain and longing in her eyes. “I always feel out of place, Yaz. Always. But not with you. I -”

And before Yasmin knew what was happening to her, the blonde in front of her had sunk down on one knee.

“My lady… My Yaz, if you would agree to -”

“Doctor!”

Yasmin’s head swivelled around as a - by now - familiar voice rang through the palace walls, and out over the gardens. 

“Doctor!”

The Princess jumped up on her feet, grabbing a hold of Yasmin’s arm.

“Something is wrong”, she said. “Something is really, really wrong.”

And with that, she stormed into the dance hall, pulling Yasmin behind her. They stopped in the middle of the dance floor, the Princess looking around, searching for something of which Yasmin did not know what it was. Yet she found herself looking, too, as the knocks rang through the halls, and then a most dreadful, blinding green light set her vision ablaze.

Yasmin fell to her knees, and she heard screams erupt all around her. Blinking, she tried to adjust her vision, and finally, she saw the Princess standing alone in the middle of the room, holding her fobwatch in her hand, staring at it with eyes wide.

“Doctor.”

This time, the voice was nothing but a whisper, and suddenly, Yasmin realised that it was coming from the watch in the blonde’s hand.

“Princess?” she called out, trying to reach out towards her amidst the chaos.

But the woman couldn’t hear her, and when she slowly pressed the button on top of the watch, springing it open, Yasmin, not knowing why, suddenly heard herself scream.

“Luce!”

In the same moment, golden light erupted from the watch, swirling in the air around the Princess, engulfing her, and finally charging into her eyes, making them glow as the blonde let out a silent scream, throwing her head back.

Several things happened all at once. The doors to the hallways crashed open, revealing monsters more garish looking than Yasmin’s nightmares could ever have conjured them up to be, screams erupted around them, and then suddenly Luce stood calmly in front of the monsters, pointing a glowing, yellow stick at them.

Yasmin could see the Princess’s lips move, yet above all the noise, she could not hear what the woman was saying. Once again, she pointed her glowing stick at the monsters, and pressed a button that made them cover their ears. Their distorted faces were difficult to read, yet Yasmin knew what agony looked like in any being.

A moment passed, then two, then the room was once again bathed in a flash of green light, and when Yasmin opened her eyes, the monsters were gone.

Yet so was the Princess.

“The Princess!” a guard called out to her. “Where is the Princess?”

Yasmin scrambled back on her feet, and as she looked around, she saw the guard that had interrupted them on the balcony stomping towards her.    
  
“You!” he shouted. “You were with the Princess!”

Fear gripping her chest, Yasmin turned around in panic, and finally, her eyes fell upon the familiar little door at the back of the room. Not thinking about it for a second longer, she ran towards it.

“Halt!” the guard screamed behind her. “Halt in the name of his Majesty the King!”

But Yasmin was fast, and for once, she silently thanked her stepmother and brothers for keeping her on her toes over the last year with their endless list of errands to run. She slipped through the door, and ducked into the corridor she knew would lead her outside, stepping into the cold night air a moment later.

Yasmin spent the next week living in eternal fear. Had the dress really protected her from being recognised? Every time she heard a carriage or a simple messenger arrive in front of their door, she nearly jumped out of her skin, causing her brothers to tease her even more.

Every night, she lay awake until the late hours, worrying about the Princess, and dreaming about the moment they had shared. Had the Princess really been about to choose Yasmin? But none of it mattered now, as no word had been heard from the Princess ever since the ball. Rumors were travelling through the kingdom that the monsters had taken her, and that she was dead. Some even said they had seen her sacrifice herself for her kingdom, but Yasmin was sure that something else entirely had happened that night.

She had witnessed the Princess standing up to the monsters, and they had seemed to have respect, even fear for her.

Two weeks passed, then three, and still no word of the Princess. Until one night, Yasmin was awoken by the strangest of noises ringing through the attic. It was a sort of whirring and wheezing, like an old machine. At first, Yasmin thought that it must be a part of her dream, yet as she opened her eyes, the sound was still there, even louder and clearer now.

And then, with a dull thud, a blue box appeared in the middle of the attic.

Frightened, she jumped out of her bed, grabbing a poker out of the fireplace, holding it with both hands as she braced herself for whatever was to happen next.

Slowly, the creaking door of the box opened, and from the inside, a soft orange glow was cast into the attic. A moment later, a figure appeared in the doorway.

Yaz could barely make out a silhouette against the orange glow. A long coat with a hood, and peculiarly short trousers, paired with thick boots.

“Yaz.”

At the familiar voice, Yasmin felt the metal slip out of her hands and fall to the floor with a thud.

“Luce?” she asked, and then the figure stepped out into the attic, and Yasmin could finally make out the woman’s features. Her soft smile, her kind eyes, which somehow looked so much older than Yasmin remembered them.

“Yes”, the woman spoke, and then added, her smile turning sad. “And no.”

Slowly, Yasmin walked towards her. “How?”

The woman sighed. “I’m not a Princess, Yaz. I’m not even from this planet.”

Yasmin frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“When I met you, I didn’t remember who I was. Somebody had taken my memories, and forced them into this fobwatch.” She held up the watch. “That’s why I felt so out of place, Yaz. I never belonged in that palace.”

Yasmin’s head was spinning. Memories stored in a fobwatch? A blue box appearing out of nowhere? A woman from another planet? A month ago, she would have brushed it all off with a laugh, yet now, standing in front of this woman, she knew that it was all true.

“Who are you then?” she finally asked.

“Ah”, the woman said. “Glad you asked. Haven’t gotten to do this in a long time.” Taking a step closer towards Yaz, she grinned. “Hello. I’m the Doctor. I’m a Time Lord, and a very long time ago, I stole a box and decided to travel the universe. And I may not be able to offer you a palace or a kingdom, but”, and with that, she stepped to the side, gesturing towards the box. “I can offer you the stars.”

Yasmin wasn’t sure why she was trusting this strange woman, who was a Princess yet not, who called herself Luce and the Doctor and who had the kindest smile she had ever seen, yet she found herself walking towards the box, and as she stepped into it, she thought her heart had stopped.

The box, on the inside, was so much larger, orange crystals growing out of the floors and ceiling, a strange panel filling up the middle of the room.

“This”, the Doctor said, stepping in behind her. “Is my TARDIS, and it can take you anywhere you want.”

Yasmin looked up at her, trying to gather her thoughts. 

The Doctor stepped closer once again. “I’m not who you met at those balls, Yaz”, she spoke softly.

“You’re not.”

Yasmin knew it was true, and the thought made her almost cry. But how could you mourn the loss of someone who had never even really existed in the first place?

“But I remember, Yaz. I remember everything.”

Slowly, the Doctor reached out for Yasmin’s hand, and took it in her own. Yasmin looked up into her eyes, those eyes that looked exactly like the ones she had fallen in love with during magical nights spent dancing and talking, and she felt warmth spread through her chest once more.

She understood that the woman standing in front of her wasn’t the same one she had met then, yet she also knew that she would love her just the same.

Throwing one last glance out through the doors and into the attic, Yaz knew she had made her choice.

As she turned back towards the Doctor, she leaned up, placing a soft kiss on the woman’s cheek. And when she pulled back, the look of surprise that had appeared in the blonde’s eyes was one that Yaz knew all too well.

Smiling, she nodded.

“Show me the stars”, she spoke.

And so the Doctor did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it, please consider leaving a comment - I love hearing your thoughts :)


	2. The Time Lord and the Pea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! First of all thank you for your responses to the first fairy tale, I'm really glad you guys are enjoying it! I hope that this can maybe be a little fluffy distraction during these crazy times right now. 
> 
> Today's fairy tale is based on Hans Christian Andersen's "The Princess and the Pea".

Once upon a time, there was a King and Queen who wished for nothing but one thing: for their daughter, the Princess, to find a suitable husband. They dreamed of a day when the Princess would marry a Prince of great fortune, and they would rule together over their kingdoms.   
  
The Princess, however, had a much different dream for her life. For the Princess, unbeknownst to all, had a secret taste for adventure. Often, she lay awake at night, imagining the wondrous things she could see and do. When she had been a child, she would take a long wooden stick out its hiding place underneath her bed, and spend hours pretending that it was her sword, for she was a knight on important missions.    
  
Now that the Princess was all grown up, her parents however were determined to decide her fate. For the Princess was nearly twenty-one years of age, and thus talk of marriage was a constant presence in her life.   
  
Day in, day out, her parents would call upon Princes from far away lands to come to the castle and meet their daughter. The Princess grew ever more tired of them, and soon, she abandoned her well-trained manners and amused herself with playing tricks on her unsuspecting suitors.

For one of them, she would pretend that her diet consisted entirely of candied cherries, and that they had to be picked by three unmarried men wearing nothing but a loincloth. She had it known that she would expect her future husband to arrange for her diet to continue like this in his palace.   
  
The man was gone the following day.   
  
Another Prince she greeted wearing her lady’s maid’s working dress, and proclaimed herself as “one of the people”. Over tea, she took great care in loudly discussing the senselessness of a ruling class, and expressed her wish for all to be treated equal.

This suitor did not stay for dinner.

Soon, the King and Queen grew exasperated, but however much they pleaded with their daughter, she would not yield to their wishes.

“I am Queen over my own heart and body”, she would say. “And under my own rule this kingdom shall remain.”

One day, there was a strange occurrence in the castle grounds, and at first it went unnoticed. A blue box appeared from the sky, and sat itself among the roses. One of its doors flung open, and stumbling out, covered in smoke, came a woman. She waved a hand in front of herself, and pulled up the hood of her long coat as she realised that she had entered in the middle of a heavy downpour.

“Please”, she spoke to her blue box - which was not a box at all, but in fact was a sentient space-time ship - as the doors fell shut behind her. “I didn’t mean to blow up the thermodynamic protractor, I swear it was an accident! I’ll stop tinkering, I just need to -”

But the woman was interrupted by a loud, determined click of a door being firmly locked. And so she found herself with no other choice but to accept her ship’s punishment. Grumbling under her breath, the woman - whose name was the Doctor - turned around to look for a place of shelter. It was then that her eyes fell upon the castle, and she decided she would seek refuge there for the night. Hopefully, come morning, her ship would have decided to forgive her for her offenses and allow her entrance once again.

And so the Doctor found herself in front of the palace gates, beating the ornate golden ring of the door knocker against the hammer underneath until she could hear hurried footsteps inside.

A maid stood at the other side of the door, and the Doctor, with a friendly smile on her face, held up a magical piece of paper, which told the reader what they wanted to see.

“A Princess?”, the maid asked, her brows pulled into a frown. 

The woman was beautiful, the Doctor thought, as she let her eyes roam over her face. Her brown skin looked soft, and her dark eyes spoke of a fierce spirit and intelligence. Half of her hair was pulled up into two buns at the back of her head, with the rest falling down over her shoulders in soft curls. 

The Doctor realised too late that the other woman was watching her as she had scrutinised her face. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, the Doctor blushed.

It confused her. The Doctor was not one to question or doubt herself in front of other people. She was accustomed to all kinds of situations, often dangerous even, and did not understand why all of a sudden she found herself embarrassed by the mere presence of this stranger.

“Well then”, the maid said, “what are you here for?”

A bit impertinent for a maid, the Doctor thought, and found it most endearing. 

“I was wondering if I could crash here for the night”, she blurted out, and then, as she saw the other woman’s confused expression, she hastily corrected herself. “I wanted to uhm”, she stammered, “ask for shelter for the night for uh” - she glanced towards the castle grounds - “my carriage has broken down and my… my horse has run away.”

She ended her most unusual speech with a wide smile on her face, which the Doctor was not sure was entirely convincing.

But then a flicker of amusement shone in the maid’s eyes, and a smile pulled at the corner of her lips as she replied.

“Any Princess of a rank such as yours”, she finally spoke. “Is welcome with the King and Queen.”

And so the Doctor followed her inside the castle. And even though the walls were hung with the most illustrious paintings, and the hallways were filled with ancient vases and many other signs of riches, the Doctor found that she could not take her eyes from the woman walking in front of her.

“What’s your name?” she asked as they turned a corner, and the woman threw her a look over her shoulder.

“It’s Yasm- it’s Yaz”, the maid spoke, and the Doctor smiled, for she thought it was a beautiful name indeed.

Soon, they entered a magnificent hall, in which the King and Queen sat with their evening tea.

“Father, Mother”, the maid said. “We have a royal guest.”

Princess Yasmin, much to her parents’ chagrin, after chasing the latest Prince away that day, had decided that maid’s clothes were most comfortable to wear, and so had refused to take them off thus far.

The Doctor, however, saw her confusion only deepen. She looked back and forth between the King and Queen and their, so it seemed, daughter, waiting for an explanation. The latter had a mischievous grin on her face, whereas her royal parents seemed rather dejected.

“Please excuse our daughter”, the Queen spoke as she rose to greet the Doctor. “She has decided today to play a most tiring game of dress-up. I am Queen Najia, and this is my husband, King Hakim. We are most pleased to welcome a Princess in our home.”

The Doctor, her mind still reeling with the newfound knowledge that Yaz was indeed the Princess, reached out and firmly grasped the Queen’s hand in her own, giving it a good shake.

“Hi”, she spoke, smiling wide. “I’m the Doctor, it’s very nice to meet you, Yaz’s mum.”

“It’s… your royal highness”, the Queen replied, a bewildered look on her face.

“Right”, the Doctor spoke, and quickly dropped the Queen’s hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the Princess, biting down hard on her bottom lip in a vain attempt to stifle a laugh.

It wasn't fair, the Doctor thought, yet she found herself not angry at all. If anything, the Princess’s antics amused her, and she looked forward to getting to know her better during her stay.

Once the Doctor had disappeared in order to dry her coat, the Queen pulled her daughter aside.   
  
“My dear child”, she spoke. “Are we sure this woman is a Princess? She does not dress like one, and certainly doesn’t speak like one either.”

“Most vulgar language”, the King agreed, never lifting his head from his book.

“And travelling on her own?” her mother added. “Without a single guard? We must find out if she speaks the truth. What if she is not who she claims to be? Is she a criminal, come to rob us?”

“Mother!” the Princess exclaimed. The Queen’s words had offended her, for she had taken a silent liking to the strange woman. She was, after all, a welcome - and, so Yaz thought, most beautiful - distraction from her usual royal visitors.

“We shall put her to the test”, the Queen said, determined, and turned to a footman waiting in the corner. “Bring me one single pea”, she said, “and make sure the bed in the guest chamber is covered with twenty feather mattresses.”

“Whatever for?”, the Princess asked.

“Ah”, her mother replied. “If this woman is a true Princess, then she will feel the bite of a single pea underneath all those mattresses. For if she is who she claims to be, such a little thing will cause great nuisance to her delicate nature.”

The Princess thought her mother’s plan rather silly, but decided to play along. And so once the footman had returned with the pea, she went to place it underneath the mattresses as instructed by her mother.

When the Doctor entered her room but a moment later, she regarded the small tower with wide eyes. The Princess, however, was now suddenly more preoccupied with the Doctor’s appearance. Her blonde hair now dried, it framed her cheeks most exquisitely, and now that the woman had taken off her coat, which had obscured most of her features before, Yaz saw for the first time how tightly the strange shirt she wore underneath was hugging her physique. More so, the Princess realised that she had never seen a woman in trousers. She found it to look most endearing.

“Is this how all of you sleep?”, the Doctor asked, pulling the Princess out of her thoughts.

The blonde looked a bit worried as she sized up the mattresses, but then, much to the Princess’s surprise, the woman grabbed a hold of one of the bed post’s, and swung herself on top of the mattresses.

“Princess Doctor!” Yaz exclaimed, shocked by the woman’s sudden, daring movement.

“It’s just Doctor”, the blonde replied, her head peeking out from on top of the mattresses, her hair now tousled. “I don’t really like titles.”

The Princess frowned. “Isn’t Doctor a title?”, she challenged.

The Doctor paused for a moment, looking slightly confused. Then, a faint blush crept over her cheeks. “Nobody has pointed it out like that before”, she mumbled, then disappeared on top of the towers again.

“If everything is to your satisfaction”, the Princess called upwards, “I shall leave you to rest.”

There was a moment of silence, then the Princess could hear the Doctor toss and turn, grumbling something intelligible all the while.

“Actually”, her voice rang from above. “I can’t quite seem to get comfortable, something keeps stabbing me in the - ouch! What  _ is  _ that?”

The Princess, much to her own confusion, felt her heart speed up in her chest at the thought that the Doctor would prove to be a true Princess herself. Whatever would she gain from it? She asked herself, and found no answer. The only thing she knew is that she felt a strange and unfamiliar kind of joy at the thought.

So lost in her own thought, the Princess did not realise the increasing distress the Doctor was under. And with one final toss, the Doctor suddenly found herself precariously perched on the edge of the mattress tower. 

Panicked, the blonde scrambled to adjust her balance, yet it was too late: as if time had been slowed down around her, the Doctor slowly slid off the side of the upper mattress, and before she could even let out a scream, she was falling. 

"Doctor!" the Princess exclaimed, reaching her arms out towards the falling figure.

She did indeed manage to catch the Doctor, yet her fall was too fast for the Princess to fully break it, and so she sunk down on her knees and was pulled on top of the Doctor as the two women tumbled to the ground together.

Both women realised how close they were at the same time, and their reactions did not differ. A blush danced across both faces as eyes met and lips parted, yet neither of them moved, the moment becoming suspended in time as their breaths grew shallow.

“Yasmin!”

Quickly, the Princess jumped to her feet, pulling the Doctor up in the process.

“Mother”, she exclaimed, attempting to straighten her dress. “Our guest has suffered a fall from the bed.”

A hint of reproach shone in the Princess’s eyes, yet her mother chose to ignore it, proceeding instead to let her gaze wander over their guest’s ruffled appearance. Who was this strange woman, she wondered, who was most decidedly not a Princess, yet seemed to have the affinities of one regardless? The Queen was beginning to feel weary of leaving her daughter to socialise with this woman, for fear that this strange “Doctor” might corrupt her in ways that she did not dare imagine.

“Yasmin”, she spoke again. “It is time for you to retire to your own chambers.”

“I’m not a child!” the Princess protested, yet the Queen quietened her with a single, glaring look.

“Fine”, Yaz mumbled, and turned towards the Doctor, suddenly remembering their closeness from just a moment ago, causing her heart to flutter. This woman was most extraordinary - surely the most exciting person to walk through the palace doors in a long, long time - and Yaz was not about to let that be taken away from her.

“I bid you goodnight, Doctor”, she spoke, and with a nod of her head, she turned to leave the room, a plan forming in her mind.

Sure enough, as the Doctor sat on the floor of her room a few hours later - tinkering with a few wires she had found in the impossibly deep pockets of her coat - there was a knock on her door.

“Ouch!”, she exclaimed as one of the wires zapped her finger, causing a burning sensation to flare through it. It was not the first time she had hurt herself this evening, since her mind kept distracting her with thoughts of the Princess, a most unusual occurrence. 

“Come in”, she mumbled, and the door swung open to reveal none other than the Princess herself, holding a candle in one hand as she stood, dressed in nothing but a silky nightgown, a robe made out of delicate lace flowing over it.   
  
“Hello”, the Doctor said, swallowing hard. “Uhm… how can I help?”

“Fancy an adventure?” the Princess replied with a question, smiling conspiratorially. 

The Doctor was not one to ever refuse such a request, and she gleefully jumped to her feet as she grinned. “Always”, she replied, following the Princess into the dark hallways of the castle.

“Lately”, the Princess spoke as they turned a corner on the second floor, “there have been some strange going-ons in the castle. Things falling and breaking without anyone to be around to have pushed them, nor a window open for a gush of air to do so, either.”

The Doctor’s ears perked up at the sudden explanation, her eyes eagerly scanning the room around them. “Have you heard any strange sounds, by any chance?” she questioned, and the Princess turned around, a surprised look on her face.

“I have indeed”, she concurred, and shone her light into a nook. “Here, a vase was broken last week, and a strange sort of cackling could be heard.”

“Ah, that makes sense”, the Doctor said, and pulled a silver device out of her pocket, which soon began to glow and whir. “Sonic screwdriver”, she explained, noticing the Princess’s curious looks out of the corner of her eye. “Well”, she said, pulling her face into a funny expression. “I say screwdriver. More like a sonic swiss army, really. Does loads of things.”

“Who  _ are  _ you?” the Princess said, her wonder ever growing.

“Told ya”, the blonde said, letting her device - her  _ sonic _ \- roam over the space in front of her. “I’m the Doctor.”

“Yes, but -”

The Princess’s next question was interrupted by the air around them suddenly starting to ripple. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped open as a small figure appeared on the floor in front of them. His eyes were of a bright green, and his skin hung in wrinkly, greyish folds across his body. On top of his head, there was a small tuft of feathers, bright blue.

Suddenly, the creature opened his mouth to reveal three rows of long, sharp teeth, and Yaz drew in a sharp breath.   
  
At that, the Doctor jumped into action, pointing her sonic at the creature, as she instinctively tried to reach out for the Princess in order to shield the woman from danger with her own body.

Yet before the Doctor could do such a thing, the Princess swept past her, and in one swift movement, knocked the creature over the head with her candleholder. The creature’s eyes went wide, and he swayed for a moment, then dropped to the floor unconscious.

“There”, the Princess said, putting one fist on her hip. “That’ll teach you a lesson.”

As she turned around, she saw the Doctor, eyes wide and a hand placed on her chest, her jaw dropping open almost comically wide.

“I -” the Doctor began, yet for once, the woman realised that she could not find the right words. The Doctor was not one to condone violence, yet she couldn’t help herself from finding the woman’s swift and confident reaction somewhat very intriguing.

“Have you encountered this creature before?” the Princess asked, secretly rejoicing over the knowledge that she had indeed managed to throw the ever confident Doctor off her game.

“I haven’t”, the Doctor finally spoke. “But I have heard of them. They’re gremlins.”

“And how do I rid this castle of it?”

“Him”, the Doctor corrected. “And all you had to do was ask him to leave.”

“Oh”, the Princess replied, blushing. “Well, I shall ask him now.”

Kneeling down next to the still unconscious gremlin, she threw the Doctor a questioning glance, who nodded in return. “Please leave this castle”, she finally spoke, and with a soft grunt, the creature began to slowly fade away.

The two women walked back through the hallways then, their minds still reeling. The Princess’s from how much she enjoyed the Doctor’s company, and how little she wanted her to leave, and the Doctor’s from the swirl of feelings the Princess provoked inside her chest. 

As they arrived in front of the Princess’s chambers, the Doctor reluctantly moved to bid her goodbye for the night. “Guess it’s time to, uhm, get back to my mattresses”, the Doctor spoke, yet in the Princess’s eyes, a new fire was shining.

She studied the Doctor’s features, those bright eyes speaking of a hundred adventures, and decided that she was not to let her go.

And so, with a swift movement and taking the Doctor by surprise once more, the Princess reached for the other woman’s coat, and drew her into a deep kiss.

The Doctor gasped, yet soon found herself willing melting into Yaz’s arms as she pulled her close, deepening their kiss.

Pushing the door to her room open without her lips ever letting go of the Doctor’s, the Princess pulled her into her chambers. “I know of a bed much more comfortable than yours”, she breathed against the Doctor’s lips.

And who was the Doctor to refuse a woman such as Yaz? For seldom she had found herself so entranced by a person as she had by the Princess.

The Doctor had rarely slept softer than she did that night, enveloped in the arms of the Princess, whose skin shone warmly against her own as their bodies melted into each other. When they awoke the following morning, their clothes in heaps on the floor next to the bed, the Doctor, for the first time in centuries - for her life was so much longer than any human could imagine - felt no haste to leave, no pull towards the next adventure. Instead, she was calm and content, with everything she could wish for lying right next to her.

As the morning’s first rays of sunshine fell through the window, the Princess awoke next to her, and she lifted herself to look into the Doctor’s eyes.

“Run away with me”, she spoke, and after a moment of surprise, the Doctor felt herself smile, for usually, it was she who asked that question.

“I would love nothing more”, she said.

And so as the mist settled on the leaves in the castle grounds but a little while later, the two women could be seen from the castle windows as they hurried towards the Doctor’s blue box, their fingers firmly intertwined as their laughter rose through the morning air.

Endless adventures awaited them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you can spare a moment, please consider leaving a comment :)


	3. Beauty and the Master

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this happened.
> 
> I blame vividfriend and TheRainbowFox for enabling me 😂
> 
> Please note the rating change.

Once upon a time, there was a village which lived in silent fear of a frightful beast. And although this beast had been locked away in a castle in the middle of the woods many decades ago, its power remained unbroken. For whoever dared approach the beast’s domain was never to be seen or heard of ever again. Tales were rife among the villagers of moving statues living in the garden of the beast, of angels made out of stone who - with one touch - could make a human disappear forever.

In the village, there lived a little family of four: mother and father with their two daughters; Sonya the younger, and Yasmin the elder - Yaz to her friends. Since Yasmin was well known in the village for always lending a helping hand, and so everyone considered her a friend, she was seldom called by her full name. The family had no great fortune, so Yaz and Sonya often found themselves going into the woods to pick fruit and other edibles that their father could use in his cooking. Their father always insisted on being the one who provided his family with meals, much to the protest of both his daughters - because a great cook he was not.

One day, Sonya went out into the woods on her own, while Yaz stayed at home to help her mother. But on this fateful day, Sonya did not come home. Hours passed, and the little family grew more and more frightened, until nightfall came and there was still no word of their youngest.

“Maybe she simply forgot the time”, Yaz said, trying to calm her parents’ fears. “And will be home soon.”

But the hours of the night passed, and as nobody in the house found any rest, Sonya was still nowhere to be seen. The following morning, as their father got ready to ask the other villagers for help in going out to find her, Sonya suddenly appeared in front of their little house. Her eyes were wide with fear, and traces of tears shone on her cheeks.

“Dear sister!”, Yaz exclaimed. “What harm has been done to you?”

With fresh tears streaming down her face, Sonya began to explain: lost in thought, she had not realised the evening hours looming, and soon she had lost her way in the dark. While trying to find a path leading back to the village, she had come across a most beautiful rose bush, and had decided to pick a flower for her mother. But as soon as her fingers had broken the stem, the shadows around her had started to move, and too late she had realised that she was indeed standing in the beast’s garden. She had begged for mercy, and all of a sudden, a voice had been heard, of which Sonya had not been able to see the owner.

The voice, sounding cold and indifferent, had told Sonya that she would let her live, as long as - by the following night - she would have sent someone else in her place to die. And all of a sudden, the angels had disappeared around her, and she had found herself alone once more.

“I shall go”, their mother spoke immediately. “My dear child, I will gladly take your place.”

But Yaz, ever courageous as she was, had decided that she was not to let her mother make the sacrifice. And so when the sun set that evening, she quietly put on her boots and cloak, and left the house behind.

The deeper she went into the forest, away from the familiar paths, the colder the air around her seemed to turn. Soon, the sun had disappeared behind the treetops, and the moon shone faintly in its place. Yaz’s heart was thrumming in her chest, yet still she went on, taking step after step. She knew that her courage would spare her sister’s life, and this she told herself again and again as the shadows around her began to move.

Finally, she stood still and closed her eyes, steeling herself for what was about to come.

“Well that’s a surprise. Usually it’s the parents doing the noble deed.”

Yaz’s eyes fluttered open, and in the pale light of the stars, she could see a figure leaning against a tree. It seemed to have three legs, and Yaz’s heart jumped into her throat at the realisation of whom she was facing.

“Beast”, she whispered. “You have come for me.”

“Oh dear”, the figure replied, and Yaz realised that its voice sounded like that of a woman, albeit dark and almost husky. “Are they still calling me that? I really don’t think I look all that bad.”

And with that, the figure stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight, and Yaz’s breath caught in her throat.

The woman who was standing in front of her was no beast at all. What Yaz had thought of as a third leg was indeed a black cane, lazily trained at the woman’s side. She was dressed in black trousers and a blood-red shirt, covered by a vest which had delicate circles sewn into it with golden threads. Yaz thought that the woman must possess great riches in order to own such an exquisite item of clothing. The woman’s face was rimmed by chin-length blonde hair, and on her ear an ornament, golden and silver, was reflecting the starlight above them. What drew Yaz in, however, was the woman’s eyes, green and golden and with a fire blazing behind them.

A sly smile dancing over dark painted lips, the woman regarded Yaz with a raised eyebrow.    
  
“Like what you see?”, she asked, and a deep blush fell over Yaz’s cheeks. It caused a small laugh to tumble over the blonde woman’s lips.   
  
This was not at all what Yaz had imagined. And even though there was a distinct air of danger radiating off of the blonde, Yaz found herself less afraid than just a moment before. And if she was being entirely honest with herself, she was actually intrigued.

“You’re going to kill me then?” she said, voice sounding defiant even though that was not how she was feeling at all.

“Oh”, the woman replied, grinning. “A snarky one. I like the snarky ones.”

Yaz’s head was swimming. How was she to react to this turn of events? 

“What then, beast?” she finally asked, and the blonde sighed.

“Well first off”, she spoke, a slight annoyance now audible in her tone, “you have to stop calling me that.”

Suddenly, the woman walked towards her, and Yaz opened her mouth for another defiant remark, but she was silenced by the blonde’s index finger pressing against her lips. “Shh”, she breathed, leaning closer towards Yaz, whose skin was suddenly rippling with a feeling she could not name, for she had never felt it before. Dropping her hand, the blonde leaned in, yet just before her lips touched Yaz’s, she stopped and whispered:

“I am your Master.”

And with that, she pulled away.    
  
As the blonde turned around and started walking away, Yaz found herself frozen in place, left with her entire body feeling like it had been set on fire. She was entirely confused by the situation at this point. Was she not to die tonight?   
  
“Well, what are you waiting for?” the blonde called out over her shoulder, and before Yaz knew what she was doing, her feet were moving and she followed the beast - no, the Master - to her castle.   
  
To her great surprise, she found the castle to be quite homey, with candles burning all around them and comfortable looking furniture all around. As they entered a long hallway, the Master simply waved towards a door, then disappeared herself through another at the bottom of the corridor.

Yaz’s eyes followed the blonde until the door closed behind her, and only then did she turn towards the room she had been assigned. Taking in a deep breath, for she did not know what lay behind the dark wooden door, she pushed it open, and blinked in surprise.

It was a bedroom, simply decorated. Tentatively, Yaz took a step inside, still vigilant for potential dangers. Yet the room was just that: a room. Nothing more, nothing less, and Yaz slowly came to realise that this was to be  _ her _ room. Was she to live with the Master? It was all so confusing, but Yaz realised that if this meant the Master was to spare her sister’s life, and, so it seemed, her own, then she would not complain. She already missed her family dearly, yet she swallowed down her tears with a quiet determination. The Master might have an army of moving statues at her fingertips, yet she was also not the Beast that Yaz had thought she was. No, she was just a woman, after all. Human, just like Yaz, and that, Yaz decided, she could handle.

She was soon to find out how wrong she was.   
  
“Right then”, the Master said as Yaz joined her in the sitting room a few minutes later. The blonde was lounging in a large black wing chair, her legs dangling over the armrest as she held a book in her hands. “I could  _ kill _ for a cup of tea.”

When Yaz did not react, the Master lifted her eyes away from the book. As their gazes met, she sighed. “I mean that literally, sweetheart. Don’t make me go there.”

It was then that Yaz realised that she was to serve the woman. So this was to be her new life, she thought as she put up the kettle, and went about to make tea.   
  
And so day in day out, she did her duties: serving meals, tea, and other drinks. And in-between she cleaned, not that the woman made much of a mess anyway. Throughout it all, Yaz watched the Master with utmost curiosity at every chance she got, until one day, without looking up from her book, the blonde called out to her: “Are you ever going to stop staring at me like that, human?”   


“Yaz”, Yaz whispered in reply, holding a broom tight in her hands. It had been a week, and the Master had still to call her by her name. So, gathering her courage to put her foot down, she spoke again: “My name is Yaz.”

The only reply she got was silence, and so Yaz continued to swipe the floor while her thoughts were reeling.  _ Human _ . Sometimes, the Master would address her in such strange a fashion, as if she herself was not human at all.

But half an hour later, as Yaz put up the kettle as she did every evening, the blonde suddenly appeared out of nowhere, standing closely behind her. Yaz could feel the woman’s breath ghost over her neck, and her hair stood up where the hot air touched the skin. Reaching over her shoulder for the cupboard above the sink, the blonde breathed: “Can’t have tea without biscuits.” And as the tingling sensation on Yaz’s skin returned, the Master added: “Yaz.”

With a clang, the mug Yaz had been holding dropped into the sink underneath, and the Master pulled away.

“Ts ts”, she tutted, and with that, she turned back to her chair.

That night, Yaz lay awake, and she stared at the ceiling as her mind kept reminding her of the strange feelings the blonde instilled in her.

She is a monster, Yaz told herself.

She has done terrible things! She continued, more firmly.   
  
Yet all Yaz could think about was how it had felt to have the blonde’s finger pressed to her lips, how her hair framed her face when she sat and quietly read, how her breath had been warm on her skin as she had pressed up behind her, how her hands looked so delicate as they turned the pages each night, and all other thoughts were lost.

Yaz didn’t know what was happening to her, as she had no name for the feeling that was raging in her heart and body. Had the Master put a spell on her?

In the next few days, Yaz tried to go about her duties, ignoring the Master’s distracting presence as best as she could. Until one evening, the Master called her out on the balcony, as the cool evening air was most pleasant after a hot and stifling day inside.

“Sit”, the Master spoke, and Yaz did as she was told, taking place on a small chair next to the blonde.

“Can you see that large tree back there?” the blonde asked, pointing to a majestic oak standing at the edge of the forest.   
  
Yaz nodded. “I can.”

“That’s my TARDIS”, the Master spoke. “I left her there when I first got here. Of course, I was just out for a day of fun. Torturing some villagers, nothing big. Maybe set something on fire! Who knows. This face is great for these kinds of things, you know. It’s easy to trust apparently. Practical in most situations, really. But then the Doctor. Oh that Doctor!” At this, the woman clenched her jaw. “She found me here, and promptly made sure this castle was to become my… permanent home. Honestly I don’t know what I did to deserve it. I mean”, she said, sighing wistfully. “I kind of do. But that’s besides the point. The point is, she locked me in here and I’ve been stuck in this place for 400 years. So I got myself some angels and made some villagers disappear, what about it? I am  _ bored _ out of my mind, Yaz. Bored.” She drew the last word out, pulling her face into a funny expression.

“Anyway, in case you were wondering, I  _ was _ going to kill you. But you were snarky! Like I said, I like them snarky. And honestly after 400 years I don’t mind some company, even if it’s human.” At that, she finally looked over at Yaz, slowly letting her eyes wander over her body in a way that made the young woman feel like she was sitting on a bed of needles. “Besides, angels are fun, but not exactly great conversationalists. Although I do love a good monologue, mind you.”

She drew her eyes away from Yaz, and looked back out towards the edge of the forest. “Still”, she continued. “Leaving my TARDIS right there where I can see it? Now, Doctor, that’s just  _ mean _ .”   
  
Yaz’s mind was turning. She had never heard the woman talk that much in the almost two weeks she had worked for her now. For usually, the blonde would throw but a sentence or two her way, most of them clearly designed to challenge Yaz into some form of reaction. Something that Yaz had been steadfastly resisting so far, as she was proud to admit. Now, however, the woman in front of her suddenly seemed almost vulnerable as she undoubtedly was asking Yaz for company. Although Yaz had not understood most of what had been said.

“TARDIS?” she finally managed to ask.

“Time and Relative Dimension in Space”, the woman replied, her voice devoid of emotion. “It’s a ship.”

Frowning, Yaz looked back out at the tree.   
  
“Oh not your human kind of ship”, the Master continued, rolling her eyes. “Keep up, Yaz. A space-time ship, developed by the Time Lords. My people.”

Yaz’s eyes went wide. A space-time ship? Was such a thing to exist? But a month ago she would not have believed it, but now that she had seen moving statues and found herself in the company of a woman who, Yaz began to suspect more strongly with each passing day, was not human at all, she found herself not contesting the claim.

The Master remained silent, and Yaz thought that maybe, she was being presented with an opportunity to finally find out more.

“This face?”

“Oh”, the Master replied, grinning slyly as she shot Yaz a look. “I knew you were a smart one. Yes, this face. My body changes every now and again, and I get an entirely new one. For free! Everything starts swirling and then I explode and poof! New body.”

Yaz swallowed. “That sounds painful.”

“Agony”, the Master replied, licking her lips with a gleeful expression on her face. 

Yaz followed the movement of the woman’s tongue with her eyes, and suddenly found her cheeks burn. And so she quickly dropped her gaze, focusing on her own hands, lying in her lap, instead.

“400 years”, she spoke quietly. “You must have been very lonely.”

And then, after a beat of silence, she looked up again into the blonde’s eyes, adding: “I’m sorry this Doctor did this to.”

She noticed her mistake as soon as the smile dropped from the Master’s lips. Jumping out of her own chair, the blonde grabbed Yaz’s wrists, pulling her up and pushing her against the wall.

“Don’t you dare”, she growled, teeth gleaming. “Don’t you dare pity me, human.”

The Master’s body was pressed flush against Yaz’s, and the young woman’s heart was beating so fast she thought it was to break out of her ribcage. Her mouth had gone entirely dry, and this would not change no matter how much she tried to swallow.   
  
Suddenly, she could see every single little detail of the blonde’s face, so close to hers. The crease between her brows, the soft wrinkles next to her eyes - which were blazing with danger - and her full lips. Her lips, which looked soft and enticing and instilled, out of nowhere, the sudden urge inside of Yaz to lean forward and hungrily envelop them with her own.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Yaz pushed away the other woman, who let her, even though Yaz had no doubt that she was indeed much stronger than her. And then she turned, running to her room and throwing the door shut behind her.

She did not emerge the following day, nor the day after, choosing instead to lock herself away, out of the Master’s reach. For this was the first time that Yaz was truly scared, and it was not at all for the reasons that she should have felt so.   
  
For Yaz had not discovered a fear of the Master, no, instead she had found fear of the things she herself had come to desire.   
  
She was well aware that the Master was dangerous - she had made no effort to hide it as she had told Yaz of her fate. Yet Yaz’s body seemed well out of her control by now, all that she ever wanted being to get closer to the woman, so inexplicably closer in a way of which Yaz did not know how. Yaz had never been in love, except for the occasional interest she had taken in a person or two. Yet Yaz knew that what she was feeling now was something else entirely, and she was unsure how to proceed.

When Yaz finally emerged out of her room two days later, the Master did not deign a glance. Instead, she wordlessly held out her empty cup, and Yaz continued her chores as always. Except something had changed, the air between the two feeling laden with unresolved tension, every breath crackling as it hit its surroundings.    
  
Yaz should go home. She should try and run away, try and find her way back to her family. Her family yes, who were surely convinced she was dead. 

The thought settled like a stone in Yaz’s stomach as she prepared the evening’s meal. As soon as it was served, the Master sat down at the table, her vest opened, her sleeves rolled up. Yaz noticed the change in her appearance out of the corner of her eyes, and felt the blood rush faster through her veins.   
  
Clenching her jaw, she sat down opposite the blonde, as she did every night, and began eating from her own plate. Suddenly, a thought flashed through her mind as she realised something that had been lost to her before.

“There is no lock on my room”, she spoke slowly, and, without looking up from her plate, the Master shrugged.   
  
“Neither is there on the castle gates.”

Now the Master looked up, her interest obviously peaked.

“And the garden, although filled with your moving statues, has no gate.”

Still the Master looked at her, expression unmoving.

“I could leave”, Yaz suddenly said, realising the truth behind her words as soon as she had spoken them.

Slowly, the Master nodded, and it was then that Yaz realised that the Master knew. Somehow, she was well aware of the strange effect she had on Yaz, and she knew that Yaz, at this point, was too enticed to simply leave. Strangely, Yaz found that the realisation made her want to leave even less.   


Still fixing her with her gaze, strong and unrelenting, a slow grin crept up the Master’s cheeks as she watched the cogs turn behind Yaz’s eyes.   
  
And so the Master lifted her knife, covered in the red from the bloody piece of meat on her plate. Looking Yaz straight in the eye, she dragged her tongue over its edge, ever so slowly, gaze never faltering.   
  
Yaz wanted to scream, yet she did not know why. An unfamiliar heat was forming in her stomach, one that made her simultaneously self-conscious yet also wish for more.   
  
As the Master’s tongue reached the tip of the knife, she slowly dropped it once more, yet Yaz, without knowing what she was doing, suddenly found her own hand reaching for the woman’s face, dragging her thumb over her bottom lip as she wiped away a single, leftover drop.   
  
At that, the Master’s eyes turned a shade of dark unlike anything Yaz had ever seen. Her knife fell to the plate with a clatter as she dropped it, and in a swift movement, the blonde had stood up and had rounded the table. She had barely come to a halt in front of Yaz before she gripped the young woman’s chin with her hand, forcefully lifting her head and leaning down.   
  
Yaz felt like she was about to combust.   
  
“I am dangerous”, the Master whispered, voice strained with the effort of holding herself back.   
  
Yet Yaz withheld her gaze, and nodded. “I know.”

And suddenly the blonde’s lips were on hers, pressing against her mouth, hungrily devouring. Yaz did not know where to focus her thoughts: the burning sensation in her lungs as they screamed for air, yet were deprived, the flames that were licking up her skin, leaving it charred wherever the blonde’s hands touched it, or the almost painful heat that was blazing through her core.

“More”, was all she could breathe against the Master’s lips. “More.”   
  
And so the Master obliged, her tongue pushing into Yaz’s mouth at the same time as a loud clatter could be heard in the room. It took Yaz a moment to realise that the blonde had simply pushed their dinner off the table, and before she could dwell on it any longer, she felt herself being lifted out of her chair. A second later, she was slammed down against the table, the movement knocking the wind out of her lungs.

Yet the Master did not pause to check on her. Pulling away from Yaz’s lips - who instantly missed the contact dearly - the blonde was leaning over her, her hungry eyes roaming over the younger woman’s body. A moment later, her hands grabbed a hold of Yaz’s dress, and simply ripped it apart along its entire length.   


The show of strength made new fire rush through Yaz’s veins. And although she had never been in this situation before, she knew full well what was about to happen.

She did not protest. Instead, her hands reached upwards, almost out of their own accord, trying to draw the blonde back down towards her.

Yet she found the woman unmoving.   
  
“Oh sweetie”, the Master breathed. “That is not how this is going to go.”

And before Yaz could say or do anything, the blonde had thrown her vest into a corner and taken off her shirt. With one swift motion, she looped it under the table, and tied a sleeve each around Yaz’s wrists, keeping her firm in place.   
  
Yaz, however, had barely noticed her own incapacitation, for her entire mind was occupied by the suddenly shirtless upper body in front of her. The woman wore the most unusual garment over her breasts, made out of elegant black lace. It left just enough to the imagination to make Yaz’s mouth go dry.   
  
Pausing, the Master took hold of Yaz's chin, pushing it up to force Yaz to look her straight in the eye. She spoke one word: “Red.”

And Yaz nodded, understanding the meaning behind the simple offering. A precaution, a safety card which Yaz was all too sure she would not want to use.   
  
And then, slowly, the woman leaned down, letting the lacy fabric of her undergarment graze over Yaz’s own, uncovered breasts.   
  
“Still like what you see.” The statement - for it was most definitely not a question - was whispered into Yaz’s ear. Yet before Yaz could reply, the Master’s teeth had sunk into the soft flesh of Yaz’s shoulder, and she heard herself gasp as her back arched off the table.   
  
With one swift movement, the Master sprawled a hand over Yaz’s stomach and pushed her back down, slamming her back into the table once more.   
  
“Down”, she growled, and Yaz suddenly felt wetness pool between her legs as the blonde’s lips moved down towards her breasts, kissing and nipping, no doubt leaving bruises in their wake.   
  
Yaz realised that she would cherish every single one of them.   
  
By the time the Master’s tongue began to dance over Yaz’s breasts, she knew she had lost, and so she let go of any leftover inhibitions that she might have harboured, and gave herself fully to the woman.   
  
And how the Master took. She ravished her, for what felt like hours, as ever newfound sensations caused sounds to escape Yaz’s lips that she had not thought herself capable of making.   
  
“Master”, she spoke, again and again, louder with each stroke of the blonde’s tongue between her legs. “Master!”   
  
The woman was bent over the table, one hand placed under Yaz’s leg as she held it over her shoulder, the other reaching upwards, nails scratching across the skin of Yaz’s stomach and no doubt drawing blood. Yaz felt herself arch off the table, fighting against her restraints for want of touching the woman, making them dig into her skin ever deeper.   
  
Screaming the blonde’s name for a final time, something snapped inside of Yaz, causing her entire body to go rigid, until the world briefly went dark around her. When she came to, the Master’s face was close to hers, looking herstraight in the eye.   
  
It was then that Yaz knew the woman was anything but done with her. 

And so for the rest of the night, Yaz found herself at the mercy of the Master, and not wishing for it to be any different. She realised soon that the blonde’s fingers were just as talented as her tongue, as the Master pushed into her with relentless force, making her snap again and again until Yaz was completely spent, her back slumping down against the table after one final moment of intense, breathtaking pleasure.   
  
With a gasp from Yaz, the Master withdrew her fingers, examining them with glee on her face. Looking down at Yaz, she dragged her tongue over them, making the woman almost forget how utterly exhausted she was.

Then, without saying a word, the Master untied the knots around her wrists and, taking Yaz completely by surprise, placed a soft kiss on the irritated skin there. As Yaz slowly sat up, the Master went to retrieve a small jar from the cupboard, and as she sat down next to Yaz on the table, she used her fingers to retrieve some form of ointment and spread it over the damaged skin - red and sore - of Yaz’s wrists, the cooling effect instantly taking some of the pain away.   
  
“There”, the woman spoke, with unusual softness, and Yaz stared at her in wonder.   
  
From then on out, everything changed.   
  
With the knowledge that Yaz was free to leave, it had become her choice not to, which she made anew every day. The Master was still a mysterious woman in many ways, and Yaz was well aware that she was trouble. Yet she had decided to brave the danger, for it was well worth it compared to what the woman had to offer.   
  
Oh, how much the woman had to offer. Yaz spent her nights discovering new wonders of the body, yet her favourite came when finally, the Master allowed her to touch her in return. For there was no sweeter melody on this earth than the sound of the Master’s screams of passion, the way she let Yaz’s name tumble over her lips as she forgot herself in ecstasy.   
  
One morning, as Yaz woke up wrapped all around the Master’s body, she suddenly heard an unusual raucous outside.

“Master”, she whispered, gently shaking the other woman awake. “Master there’s people outside!”   
  
The blonde had jumped out of bed quicker than Yaz could have imagined, slipping into her trousers and grabbing a hold of her shirt and cane as she walked out the door of the room, an unreadable expression on her face.   
  
Scrambling to keep up, Yaz picked up a robe from the floor, quickly putting it on and tying it closed around her waist.   
  
As she followed the Master down the hallways, the racket in front of the gates grew ever louder, and finally, just as they both entered the entry hall, the doors flew open, revealing a hoard of villagers carrying makeshift weapons, and a red-haired woman at their helm.

“Oh you’ve gotta be  _ kidding _ me!” the Master exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air.   
  
“What’s going on?” Yaz asked, looking back and forth between the Master and the red-haired woman heading the angry mob that was spilling into the entrance hall.   
  
“Get away from her”, the woman spoke, holding out a shining metal stick towards the Master. “Get away from her  _ now _ !”

“What is -”

“Don’t worry, Yaz”, the woman spoke, now looking directly at her. “We’re here to bring you home. Your family is down at the village, waiting for you. One of the villagers was in the forest the other night, and he saw you on the balcony with the Master, saw her”, the woman took a deep breath. “ _ Attack _ you.”

Suddenly, the Master was laughing, a deep, belly laugh that rang through the hall, causing everyone to look at her. “Oh dear Doctor”, she wheezed. “You are so precious.”

“I said”, the Doctor spoke again, “get. Away. From.  _ Her _ .”   
  
“Stop it!” Yaz exclaimed, and suddenly she found herself standing in front of the Master, arms outstretched in protection. All eyes came to rest on her, and she felt heat burn her cheeks. Still, she would not retreat.   
  
“Stop it”, she repeated, trying her best to let her voice stay calm and strong. “You!” she exclaimed, one hand pointing towards the Doctor. “You locked her in here for  _ four hundred years _ ! How dare you! She is a person! What has she done to deserve this, huh?”   
  
“Actually darling”, the Master breathed behind her, “there were quite a few mu-”

“That’s not the point”, Yaz snapped, and for the first time, she found the blonde speechless as she looked at her, one eyebrow raised in, what Yaz realised, was admiration.   
  
“The point is”, Yaz continued, forcing her breathing to remain calm, “that you just locked her away on her own for what you must have planned to be forever! Who  _ does _ that?”

“She deserved it”, the Doctor spoke calmly, as she took a step towards Yaz. “And she still does. I don’t know what she has you believe, but she is -”   
  
“Oh don’t you dare come close to me”, Yaz spoke, a newfound fire burning in her heart. Looking over her shoulder, her eyes found the Master’s, and she nodded. A slow grin spread over the Master’s face as she put her hands on Yaz’s shoulders.   
  
Yaz had talked just long enough for the shadows to creep up behind the villagers, and the Master had realised, not without a little pride, that distraction had been her companion’s plan all along.   
  
“Hey Doctor”, she called out to the woman, barely containing a laugh. “Maybe look behind you?”

The Doctor frowned, and just before she could turn her head, the Master added. “Oh, and maybe… don’t blink.”   
  
Yaz watched as the Doctor’s face turned to stone, and just as chaos erupted all around them, she felt the Master’s hand wrap around her own, and pull her into a corridor.   
  
“There’s a side door leading into the forest”, the Master shouted over her shoulder as they ran.   
  
“But I thought you couldn’t leave?” Yaz replied, never slowing her step.   
  
“If the Doctor got in”, the Master said, grinning. “Then I can get out. The shield keeps Time Lords from passing!”   
  
Yaz remembered faintly that the Master had once called herself that, a Time Lord, yet there was no time to dwell on that now. They barged out of the door and into the sunlight, running through the garden, the Master’s hand still wrapped securely around Yaz’s.   
  
After a moment, Yaz realised that they were running towards the Master’s ship, and her heart sped up even further in her chest.   
  
The Master was taking her with her.   
  
As they arrived at the great oak which the blonde had claimed was her ship, they ran into a smaller band of villagers, obviously posted there by the Doctor to keep the Master from escaping if things went awry.   
  
They lifted their makeshift weapons as they saw them approach, yet the fear on their faces was obvious.

“Oh dear”, the Master spoke as they came to a halt in front of the handful of people. She sighed, and slowly reached for her cane. She wrapped a hand around one end and drew on it, and with a soft clicking noise, the blade of a sword became visible.

“Master”, Yaz spoke, feeling panic rise in her throat. “I don’t think we should -”

“Listen”, the blonde spoke, impatience and annoyance clear in her tone. “This human”, she continued, gesturing towards Yaz. “Is very exhausting but she's also very good looking and kind of my girlfriend now. Anyways”, she added, and Yaz felt herself blush under the perturbed looks of the villagers. “She doesn't dig the whole murder thing, so I’m trying to be  _ very  _ good here. So please just step aside from this tree and walk away, because otherwise I will have to go against her wishes and if I were you I would  _ not  _ want to be responsible for a dent in this relationship.”   
  
After a moment’s hesitation and a bright flash of reflection from the, without a doubt, incredibly sharp blade, the villagers dropped their weapons, running back into the forest.   
  
Yaz looked over at the Master and the woman looked completely aghast. “It’s that easy?”, she spoke, and threw Yaz a glance.   
  
Yet soon, another commotion was heard from the centre of the forest, and the Master did not miss a beat, opening a secret door in the middle of the trees thick stem. Turning towards Yaz, she threw her a questioning glance.   
  
“You coming?”, she asked.   
  
“Maybe”, Yaz replied, and the Master groaned.   
  
The sounds from the forest were drawing closer.

“Really?”, she said, sounding exasperated. “Now you’re second guessing?”   
  
“I just want you to say that thing again”, Yaz said, a sly smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.   
  
“What thi - oh.”   
  
The Master rolled her eyes as the realisation hit her. Mumbling almost inaudibly, she spoke:   
  
“My girlfriend.”   
  
“Who is?” Yaz replied, an innocent look on her face while she barely contained a grin.   
  
“Oh my - by all the stars and saints!”   
  
And without a further word, she pulled Yaz into her TARDIS, throwing the door shut behind them as she instantly pushing her against the wall, before Yaz had any chance of admiring the most incredible interior of the ship.

Pressing against her, the Master drew a deep kiss from Yaz, biting her bottom lip so hard as she pulled away that Yaz tasted blood on her tongue.   
  
“You”, the Master groaned, and without further ado, she whirled around, jumping up a couple of stairs towards a machine in the middle of the room. Her eyes fixing Yaz’s, she grinned, throwing up a lever, and then the most unusual sounds filled the room as the floor underneath their feet shook and Yaz realised that they had taken off.   
  
The Master stood, her hand still on the lever, as Yaz’s eyes slowly dropped from her eyes down over her chest, still exposed by the blood-red shirt hanging wide open.   
  
Oh, she was heading towards adventure, Yaz realised as the Master rid herself of her shirt entirely.

And she was ready for every single one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspiration for Whittaker!Master's outfit (and the fact that she has been on my mind 24/7 lately) came from Tumblr user @valc0 's AMAZING drawings. You should absolutely go check them out if you haven't yet!
> 
> Liked it? Please consider leaving a comment, hearing your thoughts always makes my day!


	4. Sleeping Doctor

Once upon a time, there was a woman who was unlike any other human one could ever meet. So much so that, in fact, she was not even human at all. And although she looked like one, and talked and walked like one, this woman actually came from a far away planet, which was called Gallifrey. She travelled the stars in a magical blue box, and wherever she went, as fortune would have it, she was to stumble upon people in need of help. And the woman, who had made a promise to herself a long time ago, would never refuse to give it.

Her name was the Doctor.

One day, the Doctor’s travels brought her to a castle. Curious as the woman was, she set right to exploring its surroundings, and then the castle itself. The staff working on the estate found themselves perplexed by the woman’s appearance, for she did not dress like anyone in their time ever had. They were about to deny her entry, but then the Doctor pulled a magical piece of paper out of her long, hooded coat. The magic of the paper was so that whoever was to glance upon it would see exactly what they would need to in order for the Doctor to get her way.    
  
Unfortunately, the Doctor herself did not always know what the paper would show. 

“Excisewoman!”, the servants exclaimed, and the Doctor turned the paper around to examine it with a curious look on her face. For the Doctor’s features often had a habit of morphing into the most lively expressions, sometimes at the most inconvenient moments, almost as if they were living a life of their own.

_ Royal tax collector _ , she thought with a sigh, and so she tried to regain her serious composure. It was not her favorite disguise, yet there were worse people she could have had to impersonate.

“Yes”, she told the servants, now with an earnest look on her face. “I’ve come to inspect the estate, to make sure your lord is paying his taxes as they are due.”

The servants nodded eagerly, and proceeded to guide the Doctor through the castle. The woman looked inside each nook, however small, with great attention. For her magical blue box had told her that there were some strange going-ons in this castle, a hidden danger that none of its residents was aware of.

Yet the Doctor found nothing, and so she decided she was to stay the night in order to assure the safety of everyone around.    
  
The next morning, the Doctor found herself sitting at the table with the lord of the castle, an older gentleman who seemed less than pleased about the woman’s unannounced inspection of his belongings. And so they ate in cold silence, the Doctor all the while contemplating wherever she might find what she was looking for. For it was hard to uncover a danger of which one knew nothing but that it existed.

The Doctor also knew that she was now under some form of time pressure. Were she not to find this hidden danger today, she would no doubt outstay her welcome with the prickly master of the house. 

And so the Doctor threw herself into her search with renewed vigor. She left no stone unturned, and the staff watched her out of the corner of their eyes, confused looks on their faces, as she crawled under tables and stood on top of dressers and almost got herself tangled up in curtains as she twisted and turned them around to see what lay behind.

“Don’t mind me”, she spoke to the cook as she lifted all his pots and pans to examine them. Once again, her nose and cheeks were pulled up in a funny expressions, wrinkles rippling across her forehead as she creased her brow and squinted her eyes. “I’m very thorough about my inventory lists. Gotta get them taxes right.”

The Doctor was beginning to think that her travelling box had somehow misinterpreted the situation, that there was indeed no danger at all, when a couple of rooms later, she found a curious device. It hung behind a portrait, and the Doctor carefully detached it from the stone wall. Still, as her fingers grazed over the rough metal surface of the small machine, she felt something prick her finger, and a single drop of blood fell unto its silver surface. Yet the Doctor barely noticed, too caught up in this mystery she was eager to solve.

“What are you”, she mumbled, as she pulled a mechanical wand out of her coat. The wand whizzed and glowed orange, and the Doctor pulled it close to her face, as if she could read in its strange light.

“Oh”, she said, as realisation dawned on her face. “Oh no.”

“So you’ve finally found it”, a voice rang from behind her, and the Doctor turned around to find the master of the house standing in the room, a smile on his face.

“What?” the Doctor asked, confusion spreading through her, mixed with a strange feeling, as if the world was becoming a little fuzzy around its edges.

“I was beginning to think”, the man spoke, “that I might have to hand it to you myself. Although”, he added, “that would have defeated its purpose, seeing as it needed a little bit of something from you to start working.”

“Who are you”, the Doctor asked, suddenly feeling as if her feet would soon no longer be able to carry her. She frowned at the device in her hand, and only then did she notice the single drop of blood in its centre, shining like a red gemstone against the silver metal.

“Ah”, the man said, as he turned around to leave the room and the Doctor behind. “I am the Master of this house.”

It was then that the Doctor realised that she had fallen into a trap. The Master, her oldest enemy, had lured her into it. For the device she was holding in her hands was an ancient weapon known as a time lock. Its use had long been forbidden by every authority in every galaxy, yet the Master, never having been one to care for rules, must have built one himself. One single drop of blood would be the key to activate the lock, and time would begin to freeze, forcing everything around the holder to come to a sudden standstill, as if falling into a deep, endless slumber.

But the Doctor’s people were a special one, as they held powers over time itself. However, the woman knew that she could only withstand the pull of the time lock for so long. So she gathered her strength, and turned to run out of the room. 

Yet her legs suddenly felt as if they had been made out of lead, and she could barely move them off the ground. She managed to fight her way through the hallway, where maids and footmen lay on the ground as if they had fallen into sudden unconsciousness, and out into the garden. 

If only she could make it out of the garden, if only she could reach the gate and pass through, for she knew that her blue box lay behind, and the time lock would not be able to reach it. She had calculated that its powers would only carry until the garden gates, and beyond them there was freedom. From the safety of her ship, the Doctor would be able to find a solution, to free the people of the castle from their dire fate.

But as the Doctor tried to run, she felt time swirl around her, crawling into her bones and forcing her to become ever slower. Despite her tremendous efforts, she was feeling herself beginning to fall, and so she reached out towards a stone bench in the middle of the garden, trying to stop herself from falling onto the frozen ground underneath her feet.

She tumbled, the power of the time lock pulling her down, and finally her back hit the hard surface of the bench, and her eyes closed.

Time stood still around her, and so the Doctor slept for a hundred years.

The seasons came and went, and the garden around the Doctor grew wild with flowers and trees, their thick roots reaching out of the floor and covered in mossy greens. And all through the endless cycle of warm and cold, of rain and sunshine and frost and snow, the Doctor lay motionless on the white stone of the bench, her eyes closed, her body unmoving and forever unchanged.

Until one day, a young woman took the road from her father’s estate to travel down to the city, where she was to be trained to become a royal guard. The woman was called Yasmin, and she had always wanted to see more of the world. She was of a kind nature, and bright as she was brave. Her parents were very proud of their daughter, and the day the royal messenger had appeared with the news that she was to be accepted into the guard, they had been overwhelmed with joy. Young Yasmin herself was looking forward to her new calling, as it would give her a way to help people, to protect them and assist them in their troubles. For when people needed help, Yasmin never refused.

As she travelled through the countryside on the horse her mother had insisted she take, Yasmin came upon a strange place. A castle stood in the middle of a field, and it looked like it had been abandoned a very long time ago, its inhabitants leaving it behind in a hurry. However, it was not the castle that made Yasmin slow the pace of her horse, but the garden that lay in front of it. Something about it seemed to call out to Yasmin, and she stretched her neck to catch a glimpse of what may lay beyond the hedges. Yet the branches of the trees had grown so thick, and the hedges and grass so high, that she was unable to see anything.

Bringing her horse to a halt, Yasmin dismounted her loyal companion, and bound him to a tree. Without knowing why, she walked up towards the gates, and after a second of hesitation, pushed them open.

As she walked into the garden, it was as if she had passed an invisible threshold, as the air around her seemed to ripple, almost as if it had been disturbed. Swallowing her fears - for she was to be a royal guard, and a royal guard knew no such thing - she took another step.

It was then that her eyes fell upon a woman, dressed in the most unusual clothes, lying unmoving on a white stone bench. Her blonde hair framed the pale skin of her cheekbones, most exquisitely shaped, and one delicate hand lay on her stomach, while the other arm was hanging towards the ground. 

Yasmin rushed towards her, for she had a worry that the woman had sustained an injury. Yet as she approached the woman, she came to realise that her body was unblemished. Maybe an invisible ailment had struck her down?

Ever so carefully, Yasmin knelt down next to the woman, tried to look for a wound she might have missed. As her eyes darted over the skin of the woman’s collarbones, most inappropriately exposed by the cut of her strangely coloured shirt, Yasmin quickly looked away, a blush blooming across her cheeks. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the woman’s hand and took it into her own, as she bent her ear towards her face. She could hear the blonde’s breathing, slow but regular, and soon enough, she could feel her pulse under her fingertips as well.

With a gasp, Yasmin dropped the woman’s arm. 

Had she been mistaken? She must have been! For the woman’s pulse was beating double in her wrist, as if two hearts were pumping blood through her veins.

After a moment of hesitation, Yasmin looked up at the woman’s face once again, and it was then that she realised for the first time how truly beautiful she was.

If only she would open her eyes, Yasmin thought, so I could see what they may look like.

Chasing the thought away, Yasmin began to think how she might be able to help this stranger. She would not wake as Yasmin gently shook her shoulders, and there was nobody around to help her uncover the secret behind her unbreakable slumber.

Without thinking, Yasmin lifted a hand to gently push a strand of golden hair back that had fallen into the woman’s face. As her fingers grazed the soft skin, she suddenly remembered the tales her mother used to tell her, when she had been but a little girl.

“A True Love’s Kiss”, her mother had spoken, “cures all. It heals the deadliest wounds, and breaks the deepest slumber.”

True love’s kiss, Yasmin thought as she pondered the woman’s features. It was a silly story, she said to herself, told to children who knew no better. Besides, how could she kiss this stranger while she was asleep? Steal a taste of her lips, when permission for such a thing could not be granted?

Her hand still resting on the woman’s cheek, her fingertips trailing over her temple, Yasmin leaned down, closer to the woman’s face. Might a kiss truly be the only way to save this stranger?

Closing, her eyes, Yasmin sighed. She would lie if she were to say that she had not spent many a night dreaming herself at the side of such a beautiful woman. One day, she would tell herself as sleep enveloped her, she might be fortunate enough to be loved in this manner. And now, as she sat, the warm feeling of the woman’s skin underneath her palm, she was suddenly struck by the most vivid of visions.

In her mind, she was sitting with the blonde, side by side on this very bench, the woman’s hand in hers as their fingers slowly moved to intertwine. The garden around them was no longer dark and wild, instead it was beautifully groomed and filled with light. Turning towards her, the woman smiled, and Yasmin thought she could see the stars themselves twinkle in the golden specks of her green eyes. The blonde smiled, and Yasmin’s heart beat so fast into her chest she thought it might burst. Her skin tingled as warmth spread all the way through her body. Taking a deep breath, she leaned towards the woman, closing the gap between them.

As their lips touched, Yasmin suddenly felt like all the breath had been drawn out of her lungs, and she wanted nothing more than to reach out for the woman and hold her as close as she possibly could. Her lips were so soft, so gentle as they danced against hers that Yasmin felt like all her dreams had suddenly come to life.

Yet reality tugged at the back of her mind, and Yasmin begrudgingly freed herself from her vision, slowly opening her eyes once again.

Mere inches away from her face, the woman was staring right back at her.

“Hello”, she said, and smiled.

Letting out a cry, Yasmin jumped up on her feet, away from the bench. How long had the woman been awake? She wondered, panicked. And how had she pulled herself from her sleep?

“No need to be alarmed”, the woman spoke. “I’m the Doctor, and I guess I should start with saying thank you.”

Pulling herself into a sitting position, the Doctor rubbed the back of her neck. “Could have chosen a more comfortable spot”, she mumbled, then looked over at Yasmin, who was still staring at her in shock.

“You’re awake”, Yasmin breathed.

“Yes”, the Doctor grinned. “Somebody must have broken the time lock.” The blonde stood up and moved closer to Yasmin, who swallowed hard as the Doctor eyed her up. “Was it you?” she asked.

“I didn’t do anything!” Yasmin stammered, unsure of the events that were unfolding around her. “I merely came to see if you were alright. I tried to wake you, but you would not respond.”

“Hm”, the Doctor spoke, then pulled her mechanical wand out of her pocket. It shimmered and whirred, and Yasmin thought her head was spinning. “The lock is breaking”, she spoke, nodding. Then she turned back towards Yasmin.

“Tell me what happened just before I woke up.”

Yasmin nodded slowly. “I took your pulse and listened for your breathing to see if you were alive, then tried to wake you up. When you would not react, I -” Yasmin swallowed. “I rested my hand on your cheek.”

The Doctor frowned. “You rested your hand on my - oh brilliant!”

The blonde’s face split into a wide grin, and Yasmin was beginning to worry that maybe this so-called Doctor had sustained some form of injury after all, for she seemed most odd.

“Telepathic link!”, the Doctor exclaimed. “You clever, clever woman. The only way to sever my link to the time lock! I remember now. We were sitting in this garden”, she related gleefully, “on this very bench! And then -”, the Doctor stopped herself, then glanced up at Yasmin with a curious look in her eyes. “Oh”, she exhaled softly.

It was but a second later that Yasmin realised that somehow, although she knew not how it would have been possible, the woman had seen her vision as well.

“Oh”, she breathed, and felt her cheeks grow hot with what was in no doubt a furious blush.

The two women stood for a moment then, both not looking the other in the eye. Yasmin dared to glance up quickly, and when she saw that the Doctor was blushing as well, she felt her heart skip a beat in her chest.

“Right”, the Doctor finally said, turning towards the castle. “Loads of people to wake up. Should we go explain things to them?”

And although Yasmin knew not why, she followed the woman into the castle, and a thought settled at the back of her mind told her that she would indeed follow the Doctor everywhere.

Yasmin watched as the Doctor whirred her mechanical wand - a sonic screwdriver, she called it - over a device she was holding, and one by one, the people in the palace woke up. The Doctor took great care in explaining what had happened to every single one of them. Their initial confusion slowly melted into fear of how truly powerful their former master had been, and then finally settled into sorrow over the many years they had lost, the people outside the castle they would never be able to see again.

“I’m so sorry”, the Doctor spoke softly, and although her words could not take away the people’s pain, they warmed their hearts. And when the Doctor told them that from now on, this castle would be theirs to live in and do with as they pleased, for their master no longer held power over them, a little bit of cautious happiness returned into their hearts.

Yasmin saw it all unfold, and stood in the corner, her eyes never leaving the Doctor as she watched her in wonder and admiration.

“Where will you go now?” she asked the blonde as they walked through the garden and out through its gates into the field.

“Ah, back on my travels”, the Doctor spoke. “I never quite know where they will lead me next.”

Yasmin nodded, all the while the thought of never seeing this woman again pushing like a knife into her heart. “I always liked the thought of travelling”, she spoke, smiling shyly. “Maybe one day, I shall see more of the world.”

“Hm”, the Doctor replied, and something lit up behind her eyes that Yasmin could not quite decipher. “My travels are very dangerous”, she said.

Yasmin’s heartbeat sped up. “I am not afraid of most things”, she spoke hastily, and the Doctor smiled.

“What is your name?” the blonde asked.

“I’m Yasmin”, she replied. “But my friends call me Yaz.”

“Yaz”, the Doctor said, moving closer towards her. “I travel much farther away from here than you could ever imagine. Beyond this planet, beyond its stars even, out into the known universe and farther still.”

Her eyes looked into Yasmin’s, her gaze speaking of a warning, yet Yasmin held strong.

“I want to see more.”

The words tumbled over her lips before she had a chance to think about them, yet as they were spoken, she knew them to be true. 

“I want more”, she said once again, and after a brief moment of hesitation, she added. “More time with you.”

At that, the widest smile broke out over the Doctor’s features, and without hesitating any further, she held out a hand towards Yaz.

“Well then, Yaz”, she spoke, and Yasmin knew that her entire life was about to change in the blink of a moment. “Fancy a trip in the box?”


End file.
